


Beneath The Dragon's Wings

by solitariusvirtus



Series: Uncanny Westeros (Otherworlds) [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble-like content, F/M, No Dance of the Dragons, Queen!Rhaenyra, Reworking history to integrate my preferred couples, Shorts, Wistful thinking on the part of this author
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remarked for her status within the Queen's court, Princess Jaehaera Targaryen could not feel more out of place if she tried. The maiden's valiant struggle to escape the game of thrones is resisted not only by her close kin, but by the expectations placed upon her as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

 

 

 

Jaehaerys laughs boisterously, slinging an arm around his twin’s shoulders. Her shawl slips from beneath the grasp of his arm and her hair pulls painfully. Jaehaera winces. Her brother doesn’t seem to catch that for he pulls her into his side.

“You shall like it well enough, you’ll see,” he encourages. “The Queen may be a sour, old dragon, but I promise you there are pleasures aplenty to experience in King’s Landing. Besides, I shall be there with you.” His eyes grow lighter as the sun bathes them in its glow. “You will be the fair princess all the knights shall be fighting over.”

Jaehaera fights off a blush and tries to look away from him. But Jaehaerys won’t have any of that. “You shall be, though. The prettiest maiden in the land.” He slides his lips gently over the soft skin of her cheek, in what is part childish affection and part a more mature adoration.

“Don’t lie,” she says softly, emotions tucked away as they always are with her. Jaehaera may be considered simple, a lackwit with the great fortune of having been born into a powerful family, but she still has enough mind to know that no man would ever look at her twice if it were not for her position.

She is the Queen’s niece. That is all her value. And knights will of course wish to claim her for themselves in such conditions. And she has tried, the Seven know she has, to explain that she is hurt by this. Very much so, in fact. But no one will listen.

It is ever easier not to struggle to understand her, Jaehaera reckons.

Jaehaerys think her a precious bauble, pretty to hang upon his arm and coddle at his convenience. Mother gives her a benevolent smile, as if Jaehaera could not possibly understand any matters concerning her future. And grandmother is even worse, always lamenting that her granddaughter hasn’t a feather’s worth in her head.

At least Maelor loves her despite it all. Her younger brother, born just a bit after father’s death, is the only person who she can speak to. He listens. He knows she is not as idiotic as they make her out to be.

“S-s-stop sa-s-saying such th-things,” she stutters her way through the sentence, throwing her brother’s arm from around her shoulder in an access of fury. The effort leaves her panting, tears burning in the corners of her eyes. She doesn’t want any knight. She doesn’t want any lord.

“I j-just want,” the Princess struggles to say, “t-to sta-stay h-here.” Summerhall is where she belongs. It is here that she has grown and here that she feels at least marginally comfortable. Going to King’s Landing only means exposing herself to ridicule.

It is different for her brother. He is bright and skilled in his training, strong and brave, a dragon through and through. She is just the simpleton. The maester has told her as much as has the septa in whose care she has been placed.

As if frozen in place, her twin stares at her wide-eyed. He must find it difficult to believe that she would argue against him. Jaehaera turns her back to him and, hiking her skirts past her knees, she starts to run, running away from her brother.

“Jaehaera! Jaehaera, stop!” he yells, his voice carrying over the distance between them. But she doesn’t. It is as if she can ever run far enough, she’ll be free of everything. If only she could run far enough.

But she can already feel her legs aching, trembling with the effort. Behind her, she can hear Jaehaerys pursuing her still. He’s always been the hunter. Even when they were little children; that is, before he was sent away to squire, before he realised how she is.

The back of her skirts catches on to something, but she stubbornly pulls forth. The sound of material ripping apart shreds through the air. Yet even so Jaehaera is doomed to fail. Jaehaerys, bigger, faster, catches up to her with ease and grabs at her arm. The sister rips herself from his gasp so savagely that she loses her footing and falls to the ground in an ungainly heap, her knees slamming painfully against the hard earth.

Gulping in air, the girl looks up at the black, thundering visage of her brother. “Why are you acting like this?” he yells, hauling her to her feet. “Why must you always do this just when everything is going so well?”

He is a squire. Soon to be a knight. He doesn’t understand what it is to feel worthless. Her shoulders slump and tears leak down her face. Jaehaera tries to hide the sorrow from him. But he is sharp and knows her too well to relent.

“Tell me,” he continues, hand taking hold on to her shoulders, holding her steady, unmoving. “Tell me.”

Her mumbled reply only results in Jaehaerys giving her an exasperated look and withdrawing his hands from her shoulders. “Very well then. Act the moody child if that is your will, yet know from this very moment that you shan’t avoid court.”

Of course she will not. Jaehaera is aware that like any other dweller of the realm she is solely dependent upon the Queen’s goodwill. After all, Queen’s niece or not, if she angers the woman, Rhaenyra will have her fed to Syrax faster than her own Morhgul could fly in to save her.

The elder twin has her following him back to where they have left the horses. Jaehaerys helps her mount and the climbs upon the back of his own beast. Together they make for the road that shall lead them to the keep.

Neither speaks.

Jaehaera suffers a moment’s regret at not having been able to control her temper. She truly ought to have known better, she thinks, eyes downcast. But there is no helping it at this point. She has made her own bed and now has to lie in it come rain or sunshine.

And something tells her ‘tis not a favourable forecast that shall come.

 

 

 


	2. ii

 

 

 

She fans herself slowly with the only available hand, trying not to squirm underneath her brother’s weight. Maelor presses further into her, smaller body curled around hers as best as he can. If only it were not so hot. Nevertheless, no matter how she burns to place him somewhere else, her sibling is likely to have a fit when he wakes away from her arms.  Jaehaera supposes she envies Jaehaerys for being allowed to ride before the wheelhouse. She isn’t even allowed to ride her dragon.

Grandmother and mother are whispering with surprising dedication between the two of them, their voices so soft she cannot hope to catch even a word of it. Thus, she is left with only the sleeping Maelor to cast her attention upon and before long she grows weary.

But they are close, she’s been told once they’d departed the inn in which they’d slept the night away. Heartening as the news was, Jaehaera kept hoping by some sorcery they would just arrive there. Her legs felt numb. The last thing she needs is to fall before the court and showcase from the very beginning exactly what a disaster she is.

It takes longer, much too long in her humble opinion, for the wheelhouse to stop. In fact, Jaehaera suspects the gods are laughing at her by how slow it all proceeds. The latch on the door is opened with ease by grandmother and Jaehaerys waits on the other side, holding one hand out. He helps the older women down. Jaehaera is left struggling with Maelor’s weight after unsuccessfully trying to wake him.

Her brother climbs in and picks the boy up, holding him one-armed. The other hand is extended towards her. Jaehaera takes it, feeling all six fingers cover her. The contact soothes her this once And well that it should for as soon as she greets the sunlit world, there is a sea of faces, all gazing upon the three of them. Maelor still has not woken.

Her Majesty the Queen has just greeted grandmother, with cool reserve, mother with sympathy and had moved to brother, with something akin to suspicious admiration. Jaehaera is left with only placidity and disinterest, as their monarch moves for her Prince Consort and the sons to exchange words.

Once ‘tis all settled, Jaehaera knows she will be taken to a bedchamber of her own where she can hide away from the rest of the world.

“And then we shall have a feast,” Her Majesty is saying. “I hope to see all of you there.” That is all she catches before something else distracts her. One of the Queen’s sons, might be the youngest by his face, is whispering to another one, whose eyes are upon her. She stares back unblinkingly, trying to no avail to break free.

“Jaehaera!” Jumping at the strong grip upon her fingers rather than at the loud hiss of her name, she glances shyly towards her brother. “I must have called you three times over. Whatever are you dreaming about?

“Na-naught,” she whispers back tremulously, fearing that some keen ears might catch their exchange.

The stare of the Targaryen Prince still hasn’t drifted from her; she can feel its burn sliding against her skin, the side of her face feeling uncomfortably stretched over her bones, as if she’s grown too large for it quite suddenly. She hates it when others stare.

But then they are within the keep and Jaehaerys lets go, electing to take Maelor to grandmother’s bedchamber. Jaehaera lets his hand go then, unwilling to bring more attention to what would be perceived with utmost suspicion by courtiers.

She is taken to her own bedchamber by a young servant-girl whose chattering never seems to stop. She thanks the Mother and the Maiden for the good fortune she had to serve Jaehaera and tells her, with a small giggle, that her chambers are rather close to training courtyard and she can almost see the man at their work when she leans out over. “His Grace Prince Viserys saw me looking once, I daresay,” the servant explains, “I did not mean for him to. And very glad I am, Your Grace, that he said naught at all of it.” The girl babbles on until Jaehaera loses track and drifts off. 

What does she care about the Queen’s sons? At long last they reach her bedchamber and the servant is at the window, pointing out to the smaller keep a short distance away, “That’s Maegor’s Holdfast there, my lady. Might be one day the Mother will allow that I serve there.”

Jaehaera keeps her silence still as the servant fiddles about the chamber. “Is there aught else I can get for you, my lady, or should you like to rest until the feast is upon us?”

“Nay. I need naught.” She sits awkwardly upon the edge of the mattress, feet propped upon the coffer at the end of the heavy-framed bed.

Seeming to understand she is not needed the girl looks about the chamber one last time and makes for the door. “I shall return before the feast.”

She allows her to leave without a comment and the falls back against the clean, soft sheets. The feathers filling the mattress beneath her back are soft; they deflate beneath her weight. Jaehaera closes her eyes and swallows a sigh. She just wants to go back home to Summerhall. If she holds on long enough, she may well be able to do just that.

Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Jaehaera twists until she has brought her legs up to her chest, coiling her body in a protective spiral. It does not help much. But she does not wish to move even so. She keeps her eyes tightly shut, nails biting into the soft skin of her palm until it breaks. The sting does not last long, just until she removes her nails from the small wounds and holds her hand up, opening her eyes to the sight.

She rubs her other hand to the four marks and then brings both hands to her chest, as if to hide it all away.

 

 

 


	3. iii

 

 

 

The door’s long creak of protest is muffled slightly by the sound of footsteps. It is not the time of the feast. Jaehaera knows she should open her eyes and look, see who dares enter her bedchamber. But somehow she convinces herself not to. The servant girl promised to return later. Might be ‘tis just her, scuttling about in search of work. But then there is a hand on her shoulder, shaking her lightly.

The unfamiliar grip, five slender fingers digging into her skin, has her swallowing a panicked gasp as she bolts upright at the same time trying to draw away. Her heart gallops miles within her chest, fighting to break through the ribcage. But all that Jaehaera sees are twin points of dark purple and a sly smile. “How difficult to rouse you are.”

Someone snickers behind him and Jaehaera pales further, but keeps still for the hold on her shoulder is firm. “Brother, you are frightening her.” Over his shoulder she can see another face. Rhaenyra’s sons, her mind finally seems to work. Tension does not let up. “Aegon, she’s not breathing.” Amusement curls the second’s lips.

Aegon lets go at long last and she nearly takes a tumble. “Did we scare you?” Her teeth snag on her own tongue and she winces. Jaehaera wants to tell him that she was frightened half to death and both of them should leave. But there is no time. “We did not mean to. Silly girl, it is not as if we’ll harm you.”

That’s what he says but from where she stands, there’s two of them and one of her. “A-aye. Of course.” Uncertainty must have slipped into her voice because the older brother frowns.

“What my brother is trying to say, my lady, is that we have desperate need of your aid.” Viserys is his name; that much she knows. Jaehaera shifts until she’s sitting upon the edge of the bed, tugging down upon the skirts. She’s on her feet now, shaking the creases away. “Only if you are willing, of course.”

She’s almost forgotten their presence. Jaehaera glances up. Aegon is staring at a point very near her feet, Viserys is grinning impishly at her. Her shoulder square. “If I can.” They are Rhaenyra’s sons after all and she is only their cousin.

Before she say aught else two larger hands have caught one of her own, giving rise to another wave of fright. But Viserys either does not notice or does not care, because he keeps thanking her profusely until his brother takes stock and shakes his hold away. “Who is frightening her now?” Her hand falls back to the side.

“H-how may I b-be o-of aid?” How she hates herself for stuttering. Now both of them are staring at her. Jaehaera is praying her cheeks are no more flushed than they usually are in such situations. It makes no matter; they were bound to find out at some point. Better that ‘tis not in full view of the courtiers.

“Actually, my lady,” Viserys goes on as if she hasn’t displayed a grievous shortcoming, “your brother had filched something off of Aegon. If one of us were to seek it out, it may well come to blows. But you are his sister; surely you can enter his bedchamber with little effort.”

Her Jaehaerys? Stealing off of the Princes? Jaehaera frowns. “Wh-what–“

“Naught of great importance,” Viserys hurries to assure her. That’s when she notices that Aegon’s eyes have not moved from her face. “A small black dragon figurine.”

Very briefly alarms set off in her mind. Jaehaerys would not be pleased with her rummaging through his possessions. But then again, he was the one who’d stolen it off the Prince in the first place. Instead of saying another word she nodded.

“Never fear, we shan’t say it was you who took it.” Once more she can do little but nod. Aught is amiss. And this scheme proves it. Nonetheless, Jaehaera knows that if she does not acquiesce someone else will; which is even worse.

The brothers then let her know that Jaehaerys has gone to the training square and shan’t be back for a little while. A protest snakes its way up her throat but catches at the back, coiling helplessly as she clamps her mouth shut. Viserys continues giving her quiet instructions she can barely make out. The other one walks slightly ahead.

By the time they’ve reached Jaehaerys’ chamber, Jaehaera knows something odd is the cause of it all. The door has not been locked, thus she enters without trouble. From without footsteps can be heard. Aegon and Viserys must be walking away.

The black dragon is not difficult to find. Predictably enough, Jaehaerys remained much the same over the years as far as hiding prizes goes. Lifting the piece up in her hands, Jaehaera studies it, turning it over. Something catches her eye.

On the bottom of it there is a messily carved couple of initials. L.V. She drops the dragon, recoiling from its lone reclining figure. Might be the two truly want the figurine. Might be they are only trying to pull her leg. She should just go and pretend it never happened.

But then, that would mean giving in. Allowing them to have their laugh. She retrieves the dragon and hides it away in her sleeve. She straightens her back and makes her way into the hallway.

There is no one here but the sconces on the walls. No doubt the brothers will find her later and ask for the piece. Jaehaera feels around the sleeve, making certain her prize won’t fall. Finding her way back is no hardship. It is slightly unnerving however, as the servant girl is already here.

“My lady, I thought you’d disappeared. Gave me a right fright.” Jaehaera does not respond. She walks past the girl and climbs into her surreptitiously placing the dragon beneath her pillow. She’ll return for it later. For now, the feast awaits. “I’ve already called for a bath,” the servant goes on. “If it please, my lady.”

Jaehaera forces a slight smile on her lips. She can feel the other’s unease. “That is well. Very well.”

The servant girl blinks slowly and nods her head. Her smile returns a tad unsure.

 

 

 


	4. iv

 

 

 

Her brother looks worried. Jaehaera sits at the high table, swallowing a spoonful of pumpkin soup. But her twin fidgets in his seat, glancing every now and again towards the Queen’s youngest children. “’T-tis ru-rude to s-st-stare,” she stutters out when the two look back at them, their eyes lingering. Her cheeks catch on fire at the look the older one sports. She ducks her head and busies herself with the food. The weight of their secrets pushes down against her shoulders and if she were any less restrained, Jaehaera fears her teeth might start clattering.   

“They are the ones staring,” her twin offers, six fingers splaying out over her knee. He truly must be worried if he’s reverted to this old habit. Dragging her leg away from his grip, she slides a cool look his way. Jaehaerys is rather pale. She wants to aid him, she wants to take away whatever bothers him, but he ought to not have stolen what was not his in the first place. “Jaehaera, does it not seem to you as though ‘tis rather warm in here?”

“Nay.” At that he startles. The Queen had begun speaking, her heir standing. Jaehaera looks towards the Crown Prince. The whole hall falls in a hush, unfortunately, even so it is still with some difficulty that she manages to pick up the words. Instead, she glances around to her kith and kin and wonders briefly whether they shall rise from their seats anytime soon.

The Prince Consort catches her gaze. Uncle Daemon’s eyes light on her and a smile twists his lips. By the gods, but he is truly as handsome as the servant women whisper, she thinks, even at his age. He is old enough to have been her father’s sire. That does not stop her cheeks from flooding with heat. She dares a slight quirk of the lips in return. But just as soon his gaze has moved on.

Servants jump in to remove platters and bring out other trenchers. Trays follow, filled with smoked meats, mutton and fowl. The aroma of cooked meat fills her nostrils. There is only a brief pause on her part when she glances at Aegon and Viserys Targaryen. They are whispering to one another. Fearful of being caught, Jaehaera chooses to give her attention to her brother once more.

“It a-all loo-looks good.” Half her sentence has not come out as a stutter. Pleased, she reaches out for the fowl. Jaehaerys nods, visibly uncomfortable. “H-here. Share wi-with me.” Instead of filling her own trencher she heaps food upon his and cuts into the meat and roasted vegetables.

The food truly is delicious. If there is one good thing to come out of this experience, then Jaehaera would name that to be the excellent fare.

The night proceeds in the manner all these gatherings do. Food and drink abound and later, after the court has had its fill, comes the time for music and dancing and whispered conversations in darkened corners. Jaehaera hears the light strains of the lutes and tenses. The fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the first notes of a reel begin to play.

Beside her, seeming to rise and she wanes, her brother had regained his confidence for his hand is upon her shoulder, commanding her attention. “Dance with me.” His invitation is strengthened by a wide grin. “It shall be good fun,” he promises. “Just like we did at home.”

This is not home though. If she rises now, she fears she’ll stumble over her feet. Her first instinct is to shake her head, but before she can do aught, a shadow falls over both herself and her brother. Aegon Targaryen looms just ahead. “My lady, I should like to request a dance of you.”

Jaehaerys scowls. “Cousin, I believe I was–“ Aegon stood his a look. Jaehaerys is no craven, but the moment that stare makes contact her brother clears his throat. “Well, you are my cousin, I must give you the road.”

The Prince holds his hand out towards her in silent invitation. Jaehaera cannot refuse. Over his shoulder she can see many pairs of eyes upon them. Her own hand stretches out. Skin brushes against skin, the tips of her fingers feel as though they’ve been singes when she finally rests them upon his palm. It seems a thousand years have passed before she is on her feet and stepping down from the dais. Unlike the other ladies who have taken the stairs though, she is simply swept in a short jump.

Her feet land safely on the ground as foreign hands steady her, fingers pressing softly into her sides. She has to bend her neck to catch good sight of Aegon, but Jaehaera is unsure of whether she should look up at all.

The Prince saves her from deciding. “Well, my lady?” His query is followed by a tightening of his hold. She can hear the cries of instruments as though they were miles away. “Have you found it?”

Relief floods her. Grabbing onto the subject as a mariner might onto the last floating boards of a once proud vessel, she gathers her wits. “M-my ap-apologies.” It is not a particularly detailed answer because he’s started moving and small tremors work their way up her body. She hopes she won’t step on any toes. Jaehaera glances up once more. “There wa-was naught.”

“You are certain?” Instead of speaking she nods her head. The Prince sighs. The hands on her waist give her an easy lift. It’s only then that she realises what they are dancing to. Before the knowledge can fully sink in, they approach another pair, forming a square.

Unfortunately there is nowhere to escape to. Jaehaera swallows with difficulty. The other man gives a light bow to her timely curtsey.  He holds his hand out and she imitated the girl across from her whose radiant smile she envies heartily at the moment.

Gods she can only hope that she’ll make it through. Temptation to look over her shoulder for her brother burns strong, but she ignores it.

 

 

 


	5. v

 

 

 

 

 

 

"You don't say," one of the ladies titters. Her companion is equally amused. "There's the Targaryen preference for you." Aegon is not certain how much of it he should take to heart and how much he should disregard as idle gossip. His eyes follow the young Princess being twirled about by his very own father. The Queen, he has since ascertained, is none too pleased her young kin takes so well. "I wonder, an innocent like her," the words halt, the lull not quite enough to convince him of authentic concern, "but nay, the Prince would not take advantage of the poor thing's infirmities."

The two women draw away, the rest of their conversation lost in the din. "Wretched cats," Joffrey laments, reaching out for a freshly baked roll of bread. "They should have those tongues cut out. Our cousin is a fine young woman."

"It was not her character they impugned," Aegon notes, his manner reserved. "She stutters."

"That proves naught," his older brother insists. "And if she were indeed that," he elegantly manages to go around the issue of naming the girl's shortcomings, "then she ought to inspire charity in those harpies. Besides, look at father; would he make banter with her if he found her lacking?"

Aegon would never dare say it out loud, but their father rarely does find pretty women lacking. More than once his imprudent conduct has led to rivers of tears and accusatory shouts volleying about the halls. The truth of the matter is that father is quite possibly blind to everything but his own desires. The wretched fool will cause a further deepening of the rift between the players of the game. But then it is not Aegon's place to concern himself. Jacaerys is heir. He ought to see to these matters.

Picking up his cup, he drains a goodly amount of his wine. "I think you like her, brother." If he were any less well-bred, Aegon would consider spitting his mouthful of wine onto his sibling's front. Joffrey laughs. "She's a comely thing, I'll grant you."

"That is immaterial," he manages after a moment of uncertainty. She could be the Queen Alysanne to his King Jaehaerys and it would not matter.

"If you don't want her, you would not mind my trying to secure her, would you?" He senses it would be folly to rise to the bait, but it is so very tempting. "After all, I must wed at some point."

"And you would take uncle's daughter for a wife? A woman whose closest family assures us she is little better than a child?" Aegon looks to his brother. 'Tis his father's doing, he thinks, that Joff speaks so easily of wedding the girl.

His brother shrugs and takes a sip of his own drink before responding. "She'll be given to someone at some point. Why not place her with a man who will be kind to her? As her kin, I have a vested interest in assuring her comfort."

"Wives are supposed to breed." His eyes unwillingly return to the girl. Her brother has collected her. They walk hand in hand along the wall, whispering to each other. Something hardens in the pit of his stomach. But Aegon can't understand this vehement opposition stealing over him.

"Have you learned nothing from our esteemed father?" Joffrey mocks softly. "All cats purr the same in the dark." He tries to imagine it, the frail creature and his brother. Just because he keeps mum, it does not follow he is ignorant of rumours flying about. Any grandchild of Harwin's is bound to be a robust babe.

Jaehaera, for all her beauty, and she is beautiful, Aegon is not afraid to admit to himself, lacks the sturdiness required for childbed. "Don't be distasteful, brother." And she is not a common whore upon whom one may force moon tea at convenience, if need be.

"The more I consider the idea, the better I like it." Aegon's attention snapped to his sibling. Joff chuckled softly. "A man could do worse. Unless, of course, you mean to have her." He is not father. The need to couple does not burn quite as high within him. But he is no green boy either, to be unaware of the nugget of truth in his brother's words.

Thus he utterly ignores Joffrey's suggestion. "What will you do if the rumours are true?" His brother cocks his head to the side. "About her twin sharing her bed." He certainly had not been there when he and Viserys invaded her bedchamber, but then that was during the light of day.

"Marriage settles a woman." His brother's eyes lose their shine though.

"Your widow?" Aegon questions softly. Joffrey offers no reply. Might be he won't be settling on Jaehaera after all. Glancing over his shoulder, he catches sight of the woman turning poor Joff inside out.

Before long his brother leaves, trailing after his ladylove. Viserys catches his gaze from the other side of the hall, clearly amused at their brother's plight. At least the heir need not worry about such matters. Nor Lucerys for that matter.

Rising from his seat, Aegon takes off, making his way to the outer hall and then to one of the many balconies. Cool night air chases away the heat generated by his own temper. He is not considering his brother's words in a serious manner, is he? Not truly.

A soft oath leaves his lips. That is precisely what he's doing. His mind works on gathering all the reasons for which this could turn out to be a disaster. Even if her intellect is equal to his, she stutters, she is small and fragile, and she is his uncle's daughter. Mother would never consent to the match. She hated her brother almost as certainly as she hates his get.

Laughter bubbles upon his lips. He is a fourth son. His three older brothers are in good health and like to produce an army of whelps once they apply themselves to the task.

He just hopes Joff continues his wooing of the widow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got off my lazy-arse and wrote it. Hope this alleviates fears of not seeing the story finished. :3


	6. vi

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Where is your mistress, girl?" Aegon demands of the fresh-faced servant looking at him with wide eyes. The armful of linens lowered as her silence lingered. He is near ready to push past her and search the chamber himself when she finally decides to speak.

"Riding with her brother, Y'er Grace." It is not a particularly pleasant day for such entertainments. But if she's with her brother, then she is not with any of his. Which suits Aegon just fine, for he means to press forth to his own advantage.

The twins have not ridden far, as it turns out. His search for them is short-lived and uneventful, bringing him to a patch of wild flowers. Jaehaera sits in the tall grass, her skirts spread out carefully around her as her brother swats back and forth at tall stalks of heather with a stick.

It's the boy that sees him first, eyes setting themselves in a half-curious, half-warning way. His sister looks up after, as though sensing her twin's distress. But her eyes hold little other than apprehension. If he were the sort of man who enjoys fear upon the face of others, it might have pleased him. As it is, he leads his horse towards the couple as Jaehaera stands. He catches a glimpse of trim ankles clad in thin stockings.

It comes as somewhat of a shock that he feels a thrill at that. He's seen her legs bared in her bedchamber.

"Should Your Grace be out riding? It looks like it might rain," Jaehaerys observes, eyes never leaving him. Their own horses are tied a few paces away, so Aegon will ignore the hypocrisy of his worry for now. His sister keeps silent, averting her gaze.

"I meant to have a few words with my fair cousin," he directs towards Jaehaera. She startles enough that her gaze lifts to his before dropping to the ground yet again. "You would not mind, would you, Jaehaerys?" He looks to him in hopes of determining whether his is the countenance of a foiled lover. There is suspicion in the other's gaze, might be even annoyance, but he fancies there is no glimpse of jealousy there.

He motions the other away and sure enough the twin leaves with a mumble of discontentment.

"Wh-what is i-it no-now, Y-Your Grace?" She gives him a sharp look from beneath her lashes. The one thing he wants to do now is bring her to heel, because even as he gazes down at her it solidifies in his mind that she is nowhere near a lackwit. She knows enough that there is a flicker of awareness in those dark eyes.

"Is that any way to speak to your cousin?" he questions softly, wondering just how far he can push her. Confusion morphs her features. Jaehaera says nothing. Her lips purse in a pout and despite known better he hastens to add, "Have I not been kind to you?"

"Y-you c-ca-came to my be-bedcc-ch," she falters, her face reddening. Jaehaera takes a deep breath. "Y-you came u-uninvited." She would likely fall in a swoon if she knew about his earlier thoughts then.

"Peace, cousin. I just want to be your friend." And find out all her secrets, every single hidden nook and cranny. He wants to bring everything to light. But she doesn't need to know that. Not now. Might be later, once he's decided what it is that he wants.

"F-f-friends?" Her brow furrows. "A-aye. I sh-should l-li-like that." Her frown melts into a sweet smile. The pleasure of it courses through his veins. It's all he can do not to give himself away. Alas, he ought to call back her brother before any further mischief can ruin his progress.

Jaehaerys comes with another grumble, muttering about not being a pet. His uncle's children can hardly be faulted for their ignorance. He supposes their grandmother is to blame for the boy's pride. He would have been better served by wisdom. They are all some manner of pet or another as far as the Queen and her closest allies are concerned; the key is to know how to turn the situation in one's favour.

"By the by," he asks of the boy, "have you found your dragon yet?"

Jaehaera's eyes widen fractionally in recognition as her brother's face becomes one of annoyance. So she hadn't been telling the truth, had she? Granted, one look is not very much proof. Although in this case it is rather telling.

"Not yet, Your Grace. But there is time aplenty." He wonders if he ought to sneak in her bedchamber again, if only to make certain his brother's dragon is in good condition. Lucerys would not appreciate any harm coming to the fragile figurine. It is only right that he cares for his kin's possessions. The thought does not displease him.

Aegon does realise he is merely offering himself convenient excuses and though he would like to believe he is not quite as careless as his father, the possibility is becoming more and more likely as he glances upon the fair countenance of his cousin. What could it hurt? She would not even need to know he was there.

A moment, if that, to make certain his eggs are safely put in the basket.

It is time he were on his way.

In courtly fashion, he takes the girl's hand and bends over it. Her fingers are warm, smooth and tiny; precisely as he'd expected of her. "I do believe we shall see each other at suppertime."

"What mean you?" Jaehaerys demands, six-fingered hand clenched at his side.

"You did not know? Her Majesty invited you and yours to a private meal." Does he imagine the boy's skin blanching even as his sister's becomes rosier?

"Of course, I'd forgotten." He hadn't known. Good, might be the threat of Lucerys will be enough to keep him occupied as Aegon concerns himself with sieges of wall-surrounded hearts. "We will be there."

"I thought you might." He offers the boy a sly grin.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. vii

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aegon watches the silvery Jaehaera over his dish of poached pear, the wine sauce glistening red over her lips as she nods to her brother. He cannot hear their exchange over the distance but he finds himself annoyed nevertheless. Unlike the more formal occasions whereupon the family dines in the hall and one can simply sit up and walk over to start a conversation, such a possibility is lost during these more intimate affairs. They are, he suspects, simply an occasion for his mother to find out what she wants to know.

The Dowager Queen replies amiably to a question put to her. Her gaze is shrewd though and she does not quite manage to disguise the cogs turnig in her head. "We are, Your Majesty, enjoying our stay most thoroughly. It was so very kind to have invited us."

"Nonsense. We are kin, after all." Aegon is so very tempted to laugh at the theatrics. But his attention snaps back to Jaehaera. She is now gazing at him, her eyes glazed over as though she dreams. She has pushed her half eaten pear away, in her brother's direction, presumably for him to finish off.

Then she's blinking, her eyes focusing. Her lips purse ever so slightly before she looks down and he has to wonder whether he might steal into her bedchamber after all. She won't be able to ignore him then. He cuts into his last bite of pear, breaking it in twain.

"So subtle a performance," Joff whispers to him. "Best you have a care, brother, afore you turn into a mooning swain over the lady. Mother would notice, that I can tell you." Mother is too busy battling Alicent Hightower to pay anyone else mind. Still, he gives the woman a furtive look. His suspicions are confirmed.

Alas, someone is watching. Father lifts his goblet lazily, a knowing smile upon his lips. Aegon has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. "With some luck she'll think her eyes are playing tricks on her." His answer pleases Joff none.

The potential tension drains away, however, as he hears his mother address Jaehaera. "It is to be hoped, niece, that you have found your cousins a well-behaved bunch; I know my sister fretted over your comfort."

Wide-eyed, the girl looks at his mother, her lower lip atremble. Aegon knows she's doing this to discompose her; mother enjoys being in control, after all. Before he can intervene, Joff's soft chuckle foils the trap. "What could she possibly complain of, lady mother?"

"Aye, we've behaved no worse than we normally do," Lucerys puts in, the innocent smile on his face almost believable. Mother throws him an icy stare, which he ignores completely, daring, wilful boy that he is. For his own part, Aegon is relieved she is distracted enough to forget about the whole matter.

Jaehaera's shoulders drop as soon as the creamy mushroom soup is brought in along with its buttered snails. He has to admit to feeling equally relieved. The rest of their supper meanders along the same path, with their guests dodging questions fired at rapid pace. Aegon is not at all certain how his mother manages to eat her food in between queries; but she somehow does it.

By the end of it all, he feels about as exhausted as Joff looks, and the Seven know his brother has been valiant in his attempts to distract mother, his brothers helping where they can and he among them. As they file out of the chamber, the very same Joff takes hold on his shoulder and tell him without preamble, "I was not in jest, Aegon. If you mean to court the lady tell me now, so I may settle my attentions upon another." His voice is but a whisper, not meant for the ears of others, not that anyone would be looking at them. "Think upon this and come to me when you have your answer."

Aegon doesn't know why he should decide the matter for a second time but if Joff wants his attention upon it, then he will consider the matter yet again, if only to satisfy his staunchest ally. So without speaking another word, not even to Viserys who is trying to ascertain his mood, Aegon makes his way to his own bedchamber, dismissing the body servant. He can disrobe on his own this night.

He sits before the high lancet, admiring the stars shining down from their perch. Joffrey's pursuit of the widow must have turned awry for him to have made up his mind to look elsewhere for companionship. But why Jaehaera of all the ladies at court? He can think of one or two more suited to his brother's taste. Such pursuits are useless, he realises without having to think about it. Joff has his reasons and what truly matters is what he himself decides.

There is some danger to it. Mother is not precisely receptive to her plans being ruined. And in such instances there is only one person who could possibly aid him. But Aegon does so resent having to ask for his help. Alas, his perception is that his father would go against mother in this. If he's managed to read the man correctly, he is more or less interested in a new skirt to chase. Whether that is the niece or his good-sister, he has no way of knowing yet, nor does he particularly care except in that he obtain what he wants.

With that in mind, he has more answers than he necessarily has need of. Joff will have to find some other lady to bedevil. For a brief moment he feels a twinge of regret. One is supposed to respect one's elders and their wishes.

He stands up at long last and ambles to the door, opening it just a tad. The abandoned hallway is lit by burning torches, their thin light just enough for him to be assured he will not be seen were he to step out.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. viii

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some men, Aegon decides with no small measure of disgust, can never be satisfied. In principle, he is not against having as much as he can of a good thing. But then there is that saying about too much of a good thing; he doesn't suppose it's mere trite words. "I simply wish to understand," his father soothed to the best of his abilities, "you are telling me I am to convince your lady mother not to interfere should you go about acquiring a stronger bond with your cousins?"

Cousins be damned. He is interested in one cousin and one cousin only, and if he has his way the other two will be packed off and sent somewhere where they can stir no trouble. "I believe, my lord, that you know precisely what I speak of." And he also thinks his father is not half as pleased with himself as he lets in, but one mustn't play all one's cards. There is a story there that he will without doubt be privy to, even if by simply listening to the din in the hallways. "It would be advantageous if we moved now, before more dangerous alliances can be struck."

"Are you saying there is a plot afoot?" This time the demand lacks that thin layer of disconcerting humour. It's tempting to feed the fear, to twist the truth ever so slightly; enough to land him with what he wants. But that might rouse tempers, and see blood spilled. Aegon is not yet so callous that he might see such affairs through without a pang of guilt.

"Not that I know of, father. I was simply warning that Her Grace Queen Alicent is not the manner of woman to remain idle for long, and my aunt, though nowhere near as grasping, is yet young; she might well listen to her mother's advice and wed again."

Aunt Helaena is comely in her own manner. She is not particularly tall, even as her own daughter, and her looks are somewhat tame when compared to other members of their house. But she is the daughter of a king and her mother's family is equally irreproachable. Her connections, in other words, are more than enough to make up for any such lacks one might perceive. She's proven herself capable of breeding; her sons are strong. And there is one more attribute; one so chilling that Aegon shies from the very thought and curses himself for a coward.

But face it he must. Mother has taken the throne before any manner of conflict could break out between herself and her brother. The man's timely, and somewhat peculiar, death, however, put a certain crimp in that victory. For having taken a throne her own brother might have reasonably expected to inherit, she has left herself vulnerable to any unscrupulous lord who might, by wedding Princess Helaena, make a claim on the Iron Throne. The Seven know some are just waiting for an opportunity. After all, one woman is just as good as the other, and what matter was the greater army.

"My good-sister is shrewish, to be fair, but her son's death has seen to it that her ambitions were reduced to dust. It would take a grand marriage indeed to have those resurrected. Alas, I don't suppose some manner of further assurance would go amiss." His father rubs his chin absently, as though considering the matter. "A wife like that would be a great responsibility, you know. For all the trouble she'll cost you, she brings very little."

Of course, not coming from some great house, Jaehaera brings virtually no dowry and no connections. Not even as much as a single embroidered square of linen. "It is better to tie them irrevocably to us; ground ambitions or not, one can't be too careful." Diplomacy is more Viserys' weapon than his. Aegon has of been told he is too blunt, much too direct, to do that form of art any justice. Yet he will try even this. "Put her in my keeping, father, and I can promise no trouble shall arise from my corner." And his own claim on the throne will be all the greater for it.

Aegon is not precisely blind to that. No more than is own father, surely. If he takes Jaehaera, she comes with the risk of a rift between siblings, although he suspects his mother's heir thinks himself above such threats and Joff has already given his blessings, in his own manner.

"Your mother will not be pleased." The reminder prompts a stirring in his breast. Aegon does not take his filial duty lightly.

"Her Majesty will see the wisdom of having such a trusted ally take matters in his own hand. Who better than her son." A son whose loyalty has never been in question. His father sighs; but he does not look displeased. "I am simply asking for a little time and some backing should a storm break out." It's not an unreasonable request.

"You play all you have on a card's turn," the man warned, resembling more the manner of a statesman in this moment than that of father. "Be certain you are willing to take the risk."

"I am willing. More than willing, if you would have the truth of me." He leans slightly forth with the effort to keep from pressing further.

Something changes in his sire's gaze then. It borders on understanding and reverts to some manner of suspicious worry. There is one more thing, son; one more thing I need to know before I agree."

"Which is?"

"Do you love this girl?"

He laughs. He's been expecting this question, rehearsing his answer. He might not be a born diplomat, but he knows his kin well enough. "I want her." He says it in a deliberately crude manner. "Once I've had my fill of her, I shall probably want someone else. However, wedding her costs me little." Disgust rests on the tip of his tongue as the slow-curling smile on his father's face. He speaks half the truth to make the lie all the more convincing.

"Good. Keep such wisdom close to your heart, boy, and your future shall be a bright one."

Silently, he thanks Viserys for his sound advice as he stands to his feet, bowing before his father.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without even having to be prompted this time. Hah.
> 
> Well, what do you guys think?


	9. ix

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jaehaera tugs on the hem of her cyclas, glaring down at her father's coat-of-arms. The three-headed golden dragon has been sewn into the fine sable wool. As far as heat goes, she is not like to catch an ague and die of it. But there is something about proudly displaying her father's colours which puts the fear of the gods in her bones. Her move is daring and bold and not at all her own; it is her grandmother who insists that she wear the black and gold.

She is not stupid enough to believe the gold will soften the harshness on the silver in her hair, or that the black will help make her seem taller. Her grandmother means to cocoon her in her sire's protection, for all the good that will do her. What Jaehaera does not understand is why precisely that is. Who is predator and what are they planning? And why should her grandmother imagine a scarp of cloth might aid?

Nevertheless she does her duty and allows the servant girl in her service to see her to her mother's chamber. She knocks gently and the door is opened by her mother's companion, Lady Teora. A smile is fixed to the woman's face as she tugs Jaehaera within and whispers in her ear, "You must do your best, Your Grace. Your grandmother shan't be best pleased if you lose your cool."

Her cool, as her mother's companion put it, is not in any danger as far as Jaehaera can tell, except that a lack of knowledge regarded what awaited her is not like to put her in any better a position. Nonetheless, she purses her lips and nods her head at the woman, a silent promise to do her best not managing to squeeze it way past.

Lady Teora has little enough compunction about pulling her in. And this is when Jaehaera understands why it is that grandmother saw fit to bedeck her in golden dragons and call upon whatever remains of her father's ghost to guard her. The two men in her mother's chamber are, one can hardly doubt, dangerous. Even amid the strange backdrop of soft colours and song-inspired tapestries, the very male element feels like an invasion. The smile upon her lips, the one she's prepared with so much care peels away much like a gloss of paint under the action of heavy rain. Her teeth grind together as she catches sight of her mother's fading dimples and the waning smile.

"What took you, daughter?" she questions. "'Tis bad manners to keep company waiting." Her aunt's husband, however, greets her with as much warmth she might have expected of a father, beckoning her forth.

Uncle Daemon, for what else might she call him now, admires her for all of a moment before pushing her into her cousin's arms. Or rather in his direction. Aegon seems more prepared than she is. For some reason she finds that annoying, but at the same time his countenance works to soothe her. Her eyes narrow as she glances up at him, almost as though in a glare. She doesn't mean for him to see what is in her heart any more than she would enjoy him reading her mind.

"A-ap-apologies," she stammers out, her mind working on finding a route of escape. "I-I a-am," she allowed the rest of the words to trail off. Whatever excuse has been brewing, they die upon her lips at the look her mother gives her. Thus Jaehaera forces a cordial smile upon her lips. It would be best not to speak at all.

"Come along, cousin," Aegon tugs her away. She wonders if this is to be her life from now on, being dragged away upon the whim of a spoiled brat. She has Maelor to act that way for her. But she dares not say such a thing out loud. Her legs are trembling beneath the heavy skirts of her kirtle. She wants to tug on girdle peeking from beneath the dark cyclas and take the heat of attention off of her, or ignore it altogether.

Aegon has her sitting down along the wall, in sight of her mother but with enough distance between them that whispers will not reach the parents. She cannot help but wonder at this choice on his part, but she allows herself to relax. "Wh-what may I-I d-do f-for you, c-c-cousin?" Her stutter, ever present, has her flushing. She was so certain she'd managed to control it somewhat.

"We've unfinished business," he tells her, pushing back a stray strand of hair. His fingertips brush over the edge of her ear. She finds herself shivering at such small an action and bites her lip against this reaction. If her cousin notices, he gives little sign of it. "My brother has still not found his dragon." Her eyes widen. "Tell me, lady, shall I come to you, or will you come to me?"

"Y-yo-Your Gr-grace," she protests breathlessly, half-determined to push him away. "Th-that is m-m-most in-inaprorp-p-priate." It does not seem that the man before her much cares though. From the look in his eyes, she fears all she's managed to do is goad him further. His lips curl in a secretive little grin, a most unnatural look for him, if she might say so herself.

"Do I make you so very nervous?" Being teased happens to her. Her brothers certainly do it as often as they can; and there is affection in their poking. With Aegon, however, she doesn't know that it's affection. The shine in his eyes is far from warm, although there is heat to it. Jaehaera tips her head back and tries to draw backwards. It helps none that much like a snake having caught a fat, juicy rat in its snare, her foe does not seem at all likely to leave her be. She won't be escaping this one, she reckons.

"Y-you d-do." True to form, her voice waxes and wanes, stumbling like a drunk on unsteady feet.

"Well, my lady, I suggest growing comfortable in my presence. I predict we shall be thrown together often enough." He draws back and gives her enough space that her attention goes to her lady mother.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart from reviewer Alexiel. Thank you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jaehaera could have hit herself for being so stupid, but it's much too late now and she must endure. Her lips drop downwards from the smile she'd been sporting and she eyes the approaching duo with no small amount of mistrust. Jaehaerys pauses as well, pushing Maelor back with the tip of his blunted sword. He raises his other hand to shield his eyes from the shining sun. "Your Graces, what an unexpected surprise," her twin speaks, his face serious.

"A surprise?" Viserys questions innocently. "But surely 'tis not so. We all live here now; you must have realises we would be thrown together sooner or later." The youngest of Rhaenyra Targaryen's children pushes away from his older brother and slings an arm around her own brother's shoulders, "And I, dearest cousin, mean to take full advantage of the situation. Now, I've some questions for you, if you do not mind."

Jaehaerys laughs and shakes his head lightly. "I cannot simply leave my sister and brother, Your Grace."

"My own brother can mind them for a few moments," Viserys assures him, turning towards his brother with a quizzing glance. Aegon nods his head placidly, keeping his counsel for the moment. It must be a most rare occasion, Jaehaera considers, tugging on Maelor's sleeve, pulling him before her, hands settling on his shoulders.

"If it please you," Jaehaerys gives in, breaking under the pressure. Jaehaera feels the blood leeching from her face and her fingers press into her brother. He gives a stiff little sound but does not pull away, resting his sword against the ground.

"Come along then," Viserys urges, leading her twin away. "We should not be long." And off they go, leaving only three. Jaehaera feels her young brother twisting and turning and lets him go, allowing him to run free, half-expecting him to take off after Jaehaerys.

Maelor takes a few steps away from her, staring after his brother and hero with a mournful expression she can barely make out. If he goes, she'll be left with no shield or buffer. But he will be pleased. Jaehaera takes a brief moment before giving him leave, "M-ma-aleor, d-de-dearest, go a-after y-yo-your br-brother."

The poor boy doesn't wait for anything else. He leaves her without a backwards glance. Given little choice, she turns to glance at her cousin. He sports a small smile, the intensity of his stare coiling around her like a steel tendril, ready to snap her bones. An uncomfortable feeling unfurls in the pit of her stomach, a sort of awareness; the very manner indicating she is being hunted. Her gaze sharpens on Aegon's boots as they come closer and closer still, the black so very dark against the bright grass. She can do little but stand still. The only other option would be to step back and she is not about to give him that satisfaction. In his absence, she has been preparing for his return.

"Now would be the time to speak to me, cousin," the Prince prods softly, reaching out. She struggles not to flinch when his fingers brush her shoulder. He chuckles. She detects not even a drop of malice in the sound. For that she allows herself to meet his eyes. "One word or two; it cannot be that difficult."

"I-it i-i-is." That earns her no more and no less than an understanding smile.

"Shall I do the talking then?" She is tempted to nod, but in the end gives him nothing to go on. Let him do as he pleases. When he settles his hand upon her shoulder she does her best to remain unaffected by the closeness. "Very well. Then let us settle a few matters between the two of us."

As is his habit, he leads them away. Not far. He offers her a seat upon a bench, beneath the heavy crown of a majestic tree. He sits down as well, leaving enough space between them that she needn't worry too much that he might grab at her. Still not entirely settled, she waits to see what it is the man is planning. She hopes 'tis not too complicated a plot, otherwise extricating herself might take a long time.

"I am certain much of the history between my lady mother and your own regretted father is not a mystery to you." He is not looking at her as he speaks. Jaehaera does not bother to nod. What is the point when he won't see it? "Such as matters stand, one might reasonably fear the escalating of the muted conflict unless aught is done to remedy the situation." He is about to propose some scheme, she does not doubt; however, the way he puts it to her inspires little enough trust in her breast.

It is at this point that her cousin turns to face her, expression serious, dour even. This she can deal with. "This has gone on long enough, lady; we cannot go on at odds forever." She gives no response. "There is a speedy solution, one that will keep all involved safe. Surely you would not wish for your family to come to any harm?"

"O-of c-co-course n-not." Her expression, she reckons, is not at all pleasant. Jaehaera can feel her cheeks heat with ire and can imagine the colour they are at this very moment.

"Good, then you understand my position, lady. I shan't, I promise, put you to too much trouble, but you must do your best by me." Confusion spears through her. "Once the rift within our family has been mended, we will have no more worries."

"M-mended?" she echoes, suspicion creeping back to the forefront on her mind.

"Aye. 'Twill be a much happier place once our house has found its singular path once more." She truly has no idea how he means to accomplish that but is half-afraid to ask. "For that, however, I have need of your cooperation, lady." For a brief moment she thinks she can read something in his gaze but only manages to confound herself further. She waits with a baited breath for what is to come.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.


	11. xi

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mother is not pleased. Aegon is not particularly keen on having his meal with her when she is this adamant that father has done her some wrong yet again. He knows, of course, that she refers to the unfortunate and rather recent habit father has developed of conversing with Aunt Helaena. The matter is not helped at all by the fact that mother considers her sister far beneath her in terms of appeal. This is. Naturally, further complicated that father does not always agree with mother's assessment, particularly when it comes to Lady Helaena.

For his part, Aegon is hoping the knot of tension will not pull apart. Joff yawns, appearing for all intents and purposes to be ignorant of the nearly tangible unease. If anything he finds the affected reaction about as annoying as he finds his parents' dancing around the issue.

One of the forks falls against the trencher with a shrill sound. Viserys jumps, managing to push some celery off his plate and onto the pristine tablecloth. The golden-brown sauce from the roast accompanies the greenery. His mood is not at all helped by this.

Mother stabs at her own slab of meat, the knife moving back and forth with vigour and not a small amount of malice. At times Aegon does wonder why she simply won't plunge the blade in father's chest. It would certainly make living with her a lot easier for her children. Might be they can even use it to their advantage and have it so that she retains her title only. Another bit of celery decorates the cloth and Aegon finds himself looking into Viserys' eyes, wondering if his brother is trying to attract mother's ire.

Nevertheless, his efforts are doomed to be met with failure, as their august parent is caught in her own drama and will not deign to give them the much-wanted attention. She does however address Joff and what she says makes Aegon pause into his motion of bringing a piece of carrot to his lips. "I heard from a little bird that you took your cousin riding, Joff. Did you not think to ask for my permission?"

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I thought such close kinship would allow so innocent an activity without much trouble. We were, after all, joined by Lady Alicent. She was hardly in any danger." The bit of carrot lands in the middle of the trencher. Aegon is certain he has a rather undignified look upon his face as well. Joff is not supposed to be pursuing Jaehaera.

His brother, however, ignorant of the turmoil he'd caused, simply issues further challenge to the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. "She is a good, kindly girl, lady mother, and more importantly, she is our kin. I find her company most pleasant."

"You are not to go riding with the girl. I will not have my sons made a laughingstock by associating with a slow witted drab little thing."

"I do not think her slow witted, nor drab in the least." Aegon would have enjoyed his brother taking the girl's side were he not confused at the fact that Joff is showing obvious interest in Jaehaera when he has made it perfectly clear he has stakes in that matter and would appreciate no interference. Before he can voice his surprise, Joff finds that he cannot keep quiet at all. "In fact, lady mother, I wish to see more of her whenever possible."

"She is bad seed, that one. Her father was a traitor. Her mother surely still is. You shan't involve yourself with her if I have any say." It is apparent that she thinks she does have a say in it. And then it occurs to Aegon that his brother might not be so much trying to break the spokes in wheel. It is not at all self-evident that Joff is attempting to worm his way in his position. That said, he feel no better about the violation of his trust. "Joffrey , might be you do not understand, my brother's get is well beneath your notice and you are not to engage her in any meaningful way unless you wish to incur my wrath."

"Your wrath is not at all a deterrent, lady mother. Were I a child such an argument might hold weight. But I am a fully grown man and have no wish to be dictated to. Not even by the woman I love best in this world." In spite of the soft voice which makes the response, Aegon is well aware of the steel beneath his brother's words and finds himself yet again conflicted. Caught between his own rage and the very real danger of giving away too much, he cautiously bites his lower lip to keep his thoughts from spilling out.

"Do not." The hiss comes from his brother, barely audible over the high-pitched complaint their mother raises, clearly taken by one of her moods. "

"Did he truly take her riding?" His fingers clench around the knife. He cuts a bit of meat.

"He did. Her grandmother rode with them. I thought you knew better than to pay any mind to such antics." He doesn't know whom he trusts less between Jaehaera and Joff. But he supposes it would be egregious to trust his brother less than he does a stranger he barely knows. Irrespective, he finds but a short supply of charity within himself.

"Make certain he does not do it again." Father has joined the fray as well and whatever fear Aegon carried before he now finds himself facing much worse.

"Would it not be better to simply ask for his aim in this?" Viserys is being reasonable. It irks Aegon to no end that his brother can look at the situation in such a detached manner. It is objectively better to view the situation once his temper has cooled. It would certainly lessen his annoyance with Joff for a start and afford a chance for a respectful exchange.

The trouble is a respectful exchange is as far from his mind as it appears to be from mother's. A good think both his parents are equally stubborn, Aegon supposes, wondering if he can take off without being noticed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chat me up](https://discord.gg/RG22C7q) to offer complaints, art, death threats and all the good stuff.


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